


if you weren't mine, i'd be jealous of your love

by uneventfulhouses



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, if you squint there's a tinge bit of comeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21898345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uneventfulhouses/pseuds/uneventfulhouses
Summary: It’s a quarter to three in the morning, late enough that all Marielle wants to do is fall into her bed. Really, though, she’d like to see Ryan, but considering the time, the likelihood of him being awake is slim, even if his insomnia has him tossing and turning. She’d sent him her flight information that morning. If he was awake, he’d have her on the phone right now. Hell, she’d be on her way to his place.or; reunion sex.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Marielle Scott
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	if you weren't mine, i'd be jealous of your love

**Author's Note:**

> hi, it's me again. it's shameless pwp y'all. and some feelings because who would i be if i didn't put a little feeling in it? anyways, shout out to the lovely [em](https://poiregourmonde.tumblr.com/) and [katie](https://drmorrisashley.tumblr.com/) for the beta work. um, enjoy. 
> 
> (work of fiction, all mistakes are my own, you guys know the drill.)

It’s a quarter to three in the morning, late enough that all Marielle wants to do is fall into her bed. Really, though, she’d like to see Ryan, but considering the time, the likelihood of him being awake is slim, even if his insomnia has him tossing and turning. She’d sent him her flight information that morning. If he was awake, he’d have her on the phone right now. Hell, she’d be on her way to his place. 

As it happens, it’s just Marielle, in her loft, leaving her suitcase by the door after she locks up. In the kitchen, she serves herself a cup of tea, a nice chamomile that will lull her to sleep, which she desperately needs. 

It’d be easier if they lived together. They’ve been together for a while, she and Ryan. And because she loves him with every beat of her heart, it’d be easier if they fell in the same place instead of living in different parts of the city. She could go to his, she has a key. She could call a ride, slip into his apartment and crawl into bed, wake him up with a couple of kisses so they can hold each other. 

Sipping from her mug, Marielle is delighted by the idea, thinking maybe, _maybe_ she should just bring it up, rather than wait for his anxiety to ease back so he can ask her himself. 

They have three days before she’s flying across the states for New York to promo for the part she has in a Netflix show. It’s not nearly enough time, but they’ll make do, spend as much time together before it’s back to long distance; texting during breaks, facetiming before bed, liking each other’s Instagram posts. It’s not ideal, but they both understood what would happen when they fell into this relationship; the busyness of their budding careers doesn’t make for easy romance, but she’s happier than she’s been in a long time.

When she walks down the hall, she finds the door to her bedroom is cracked; there’s a light coming through, just a ray on the hardwood floor of the hallway. When she pushes the door open, ever so cautiously, she’s met with a scene that feels like a dream come true. 

Ryan is sitting—somewhat—on the bed, up against the headboard. He still has his glasses on, phone in his hand, even though he’s leaned his head back and fallen asleep. He’s barefoot, in pajama pants and a t-shirt; she knows if she touches her hands to his chest, he’ll be warm against her fingers. There’s something so gentle about this scene; it’s what she’d been wanting since getting off the plane, to come home to Ryan. And here he was and her chest blooms with the heat of the sun; her throat is burning, and she breathes a gentle little laugh when she feels the wet weight of tears brimming in her eyes. 

Taking in a shuddery breath, Marielle walks further into the room. She’d planned on showering, maybe taking a bath, but that can wait. She just wants to lay next to him now that she can. And is it too much to cry a little at seeing him? She isn’t sure. She loves him; the joy of having him unexpectedly in her bed just caught her off guard. 

Without much flair, she strips from her outerwear, dropping her jacket and jeans to the floor, leaving herself dressed in a flouncy tank top and her panties, enough to crawl in with him and fall asleep. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tugs off his glasses, setting them on the nightstand. She touches the palm of her hand to his cheek, whispering his name. 

When he wakes, eyelashes fluttering open to reveal tired brown eyes, there’s a moment of recognition where his face lights up and it makes her heart _burst_ into her chest. 

“ _Baby_ ,” he murmurs, reaching his arms for her so he can pull her on top of him. “I must’ve fallen asleep waiting for you.”

She goes so, so willingly, sat astride his hips, her arms winding around his neck, and they sit like that, just holding each other until Ryan kisses over her neck, her collar, eventually finding her mouth with the insistent heat of his tongue. She opens up for him, leaning in closer, sighing into the kiss. It’s one hell of a homecoming; she’s missed the touch of his body, how firm and real and warm he is underneath her. Her body catches fire with the way he touches her, reminding her of the strength he displays when he gets her where he wants her. She shivers, kissing him back; their teeth clink and scrape against lips and they’re barely breathing but she wouldn’t give a damn if her lungs gave out. 

He pulls back, just enough to really see her, touching his hand to her face, a touch so reverent, tears threaten again. 

“Missed you,” she whispers.

“I’m so happy you’re home.” 

They fuck mostly clothed, Marielle’s panties pushed to the side as Ryan gets two fingers inside of her; she grips his wrist between their bodies, moaning, so loud as she rides his hand, listening to his whispers of how badly he couldn’t wait to see her if just to tell her he loves her and get his hands on her body. Their foreheads are pressed together, and his breath tickles her lips; she surges to kiss him. Kiss him and kiss him. 

“God, Ryan just—I want it, _please_.” 

The first, initial feeling; Marielle takes him in, so slowly, until their hips are flush. Ryan is thick inside of her, and she wants to cry from how good it is; her legs tremble on either side of him. Her hands grip his shoulders, blunt fingernails digging into the fabric of his cotton tee. 

“Okay, baby?” Ryan asks her, his hands on her chest, thumbs brushing over her nipples; he’s tugged the straps of her tank down, just so he can reach the skin he wants. He palms the curve of her breasts with warm hands, leans in to mark her chest, lick over her nipples before biting, the nip of his teeth gentle; his mouth is hot against her sensitive flesh, and looking down at him sucking at her nipples steals her breath, never mind the caressing feeling of his wet tongue scorching over her skin. His eyelashes fan over the very tops of his cheeks as she watches him, rocking her hips against his just so she can feel him that much deeper, fingers tight in the soft hair at the back of his head. 

“Missed you.” She chokes out a soft moan against the side of his neck. “Missed you like this, so big inside me. _Nothing_ feels like you do.” 

She can feel him shudder underneath her; one of his hands settles on the lowest part of her back, encouraging her slow grinding before his palm slips over the curve of her ass, squeezing.

“My good girl,” he says. “This what you’ve been thinking about? Riding my dick, huh?” 

The juxtaposition of his voice, so soft and sweet, and the words he drips only makes her hips twitch, rocking into him faster. Ryan’s always had a dirty mouth; he knows just how to talk her right into a leg-shaking, back-arching orgasm with just his fingers. 

Any other time, she would really take control, pin his hands to the mattress until she’s finished with him, but all she wants is to feel him take control, fuck deep inside of her, make her hips ache with the way he holds her thighs open for himself.

“Ryan, _Ryan_ , please,” she whispers, her hands gripping his t-shirt. “I need you.” 

He rolls them over on her bed so she’s lying on her back beneath him, his cock still pressed inside, and part of her just wants to lie here, just—just keep him warm, but he knows what she’s been craving, it seems, what she really wants; the golden light of her bedside lamp dances over his flesh as he moves, catches beads of sweat and she regrets they didn’t undress fully—damn her desperation—because all she wants is her fingers touching his skin. She reaches for the hem of his shirt and tugs at it, until she can hear his soft little laugh when she throws it elsewhere. He’s smiling at her when she looks at him, and all she can think about is how lucky she is. 

“You too,” he says, tugging at her tank top, and she pulls it off, dropping it, forgotten when Ryan spreads her open and drags his hips against hers. Marielle cries out for him, a tremor thrilling up her spine, that gorgeous heat in her belly blossoming that makes her want to clench her thighs closed; his hips move, rolling into her as he thrusts in, stroking slowly out, carefully destroying any sense she has. He fucks her sweet like this, slowly, bracketing his arms around her shoulders and leaning in to kiss her. It’s not really a kiss; their lips brush and they gaze at each other, just breathing each other in in this sweet moment when she feels like he can see into the depths of her chest, her soul, like she’s _visible_. She wraps her fingers around his biceps, feeling the way his arms flex as he holds himself up. 

God, she loves him, she does, like this, at three in the morning with his cock fucking into her, his brown eyes staring back. 

“Look at you,” he whispers, eyes dark, glimmering. “Baby, you take it so well.” 

“Made to take you,” she sighs, and it’s wildly stupid to say such a thing, but when he thrusts into her, his rhythm stutters, shifts and it’s a lot less sweet now, desperate even, his hips pressing hard against hers. She can feel the grip of his hand against one of her thighs and the sound of their skin smacking together is just the back track to the way she calls his name, the way he grunts; she scrapes her nails down his back, fingers stuttering over sweat slick skin, settling them over his ass like it’ll bring him in any closer. 

Marielle feels alive in a way she hasn’t in a while, missing the weight of him, the heat of his body, the grip of his hands, the burn of his beard scraping over her skin when he kisses the column of her neck. There isn’t anything like his touch, the way he handles her, how he loves her back like this. 

“This is what I thought about,” she says brokenly, closing her eyes. “You fucking me like this, babe—" she gasps, “—harder, _please_.” 

“Marielle, _fuck._ ” Ryan groans, the thick of his cock so deep, his rhythm so reckless, _selfish._ “Beautiful, beautiful,” he whispers as his hand slips underneath her, between her and the mattress, gripping her ass, shifting the tilt of her hips and it’s just right for him to make her whine, _beg_. Even though she opens her eyes to look up at him, she sees stars, so many of them. He’s the night sky outside of her window. 

She can hear her own voice echo in her ears, piercing and lascivious, _please, please, please_ , and it makes her body hot, makes her flush.

She’s gasping for breath, but he’s pulled out of her, rescinded his body completely. “ _Ryan_ ,” she moans, her voice sharp with surprise, “what are you—” She reaches her arms out for him, fingertips grazing his shoulders as he slinks down her body, hating how suddenly _empty_ she feels.

Ryan tugs off the lace of her panties over her thighs, kissing between her thighs, licking over her clit with a devastating fervor that brings her so close to the edge; her hands fly to his hair, clutching, _pulling_ just like he likes, reveling in the dark, deep groan he makes against her, feeling the vibration in her bones. The noises he makes as he eats her out are obscene; listening to him makes her breath catch in her lungs. The sight of him is overwhelming as she watches the way he covers her with his mouth with rapt attention. His fingers grip her thighs so hard; her pain receptors have shut down, so it just feels good. Everything he does to her _feels good_. 

It’s a surprise when he flips her body over, pulls her hips back, and slides back home; on her forearms, she chokes out his name, coming almost instantly, clutching the sheets by the fistfuls before she was ready to, her body shaking, hips fucking back against him as she clenches hard around him. His hand rests heavy on her back, and his rhythm doesn’t falter; her toes _ache_ from how hard they curl. She can’t hear herself, but she knows she’s cursing, crying out his name, breathing like her lungs are on fire. Ryan’s grip on her hips is bruising, but his hands are all over her, grasping at the curve of her waist, reaching under her to press his palms to her tits as he fucks into her hard enough her knees slip over the sheets. 

“Good baby,” she whispers, exhausted. “So good for me, baby.” 

Ryan grunts behind her, curses, whispering how good she feels, how wet she is for him. And God, it’s been a while since she’s been such a mess, slick and sweaty, well-fucked. Ryan’s hands settle back onto her hips as she rests her cheek against the bedsheets. She lets herself enjoy the feeling of Ryan inside of her, looking over her shoulder to watch the way he’s got his head thrown back, the stretch of his neck, his sweaty chest, the way his biceps bulge from how hard he’s holding onto her. 

Reaching between her thighs, she rubs herself, knows she can get there again, knows she can work herself up so she can come again before he does; her fingers are relentless against her clit, rubbing hard enough so it doesn’t take much to bring her close. 

He’s getting sloppier with the way he fucks her, and she knows he’s close; she clenches against him and she can feel it when he comes, hear the way he grunts, hips smacking against her ass until he’s pressed in deep and stays inside of her, her name dripping from his lips like a soft, surprised little prayer.

“Jesus _Christ_.” His voice is coarse, ruined. “You can’t get enough, can you?” He murmurs as he takes her hand away and finishes for her, kissing over her shoulder, and she’s whining, crying, calling out his name, touching her hand over his as he dips just a little lower to touch himself where she's stretched around him. 

Marielle looks back at him over her shoulder, and he leans in, draping himself over her back just so he can kiss her. His weight is heavy, but she feels like she might float away if he doesn’t pin her down. 

“You robbed me,” she whines, breathing hard against his mouth. “I love seeing you come.”

“Not more than you like feeling it,” he says, lips pressed against her cheek. To prove his point, he shifts, and his cock slips out and she can feel it inside her, almost uncomfortably wet from his come. 

She doesn’t tell him he’s right, but she knows he knows. 

He dips his fingers inside her and fucks her with a furious rhythm, fingers in as deep as they can possibly be, the heel of his hand rubbing against her clit. Her moans are raucous, loud, salacious, but she doesn’t care how she sounds, not when it feels so good, not when she’s so close she can taste the ecstasy on the tip of her tongue.

“Come on, baby, you can come for me again,” Ryan coaxes, voice soft in her ear. “Isn’t this what you missed? Me making you come over and over—” 

Marielle cuts him off with a loud gasp that crescendos into a reverberating groan, hips rocking haphazardly over the grasp he has of her as she comes, tears in her eyes again as she shuts them tight. She shakes, almost vibrates out of her skin as he fingers her through it, until she’s pushing his hand away because it’s too much. 

Her arms and legs give out as she drops to the bed unceremoniously. He lays next to her, sweaty and glistening from the lamp light, looking up towards the ceiling. 

Ryan has a wonderful profile; there’s a softness to his features here. His cheeks are flushed, and his lips are parted—he’s beautiful, in a way that she’s only privy to, in a way that only she knows. She tucks that in her chest, reaching out to touch her palm to his collar, fingers resting over his heart. He sets his hand over hers, turning to look at her with his big brown eyes; her heart swells in her chest, and she feels a little like she’s falling in love all over again. 

Ryan is half asleep when she gets back to bed, blankets covering up to his waist as he lays on his stomach. 

“Not yet,” she says, tugging on his arm to slip underneath his hold. “I want you.” He pulls her close.

“Babe, Mari, I’m so tired,” he murmurs, but he opens his eyes and looks at her. He shifts and she accepts him, naked between her thighs as he leans up to kiss her like he knows she craves, gentle intimacy she’s missed from him.

“Well, when you fuck a girl like that, it’s no wonder why,” she mumbles against his lips. He laughs, and kisses her some more, and it's languid, sleepy and she can feel it, too, exhaustion trickling through her. 

He doesn’t move when they stop kissing, just lays against her chest as she rests her arm over his back. It’s so good to be home. 

As they lay in the quiet, she thinks about this, about them, about where they’re headed. She likes him, likes his soul, his smile, the way he shines for her. Marielle wants this, the two of them, for them to leap into bits of the future she can see. 

“Babe,” she whispers. She combs her fingers through his sweat-damp hair, scratching at the back of his head so he groans, breath hot against her chest. 

“Hmm?” 

“I—” she takes in a deep breath, and her sudden pause must make him curious cause he’s looking up at her, leaning up on his elbows. 

“What is it?” he says, pushing curls from her forehead with tender fingertips. She’s so, so in love she doesn’t know how much more it can become if not this, this gorgeous bliss where he looks at her with the sun in his eyes. 

“I was thinking.” She reaches to touch the tip of her finger to the line of his jaw. “Maybe you should live here. Like, all the time.” 

“Here?” he asks, surprise on his face as his eyebrows fly up. His lips are so red; she touches a thumb to them, delighted when he presses the gentlest of kisses. 

“Yeah. Here. Or anywhere. With me, though.” 

He laughs and it’s like music and— 

“That’s what you want?” he asks. “You want us to live together?” 

“I just—why not? We could come home to each other,” she reasons. “I came home tonight, no idea you were here, and I loved it so much. I just think it would be nice if it was a permanent thing.” 

Ryan leans down, catching her lips in the softest of kisses, one that makes her belly swoop, and her heart flutter, warmth settling in her veins. 

“I’d like that,” he whispers. “Coming home to you.” 

Marielle smiles, curling her arms around his shoulders. “Yeah?” 

“I love you. I always want to be around you.” he says with shy, tired eyes. 

When they wake, sunlight through sheer curtains and Ryan heavy between her thighs, it’s slow; they hold hands, and watch each other the whole time. It’s a kind of vulnerability that makes her chest ache, her thighs pressed in close against his hips. 

“Marielle,” he whispers. “We could be anywhere.” 

She sighs, closing her eyes as he leans in, brushing his lips against her neck; her fingers tighten around his. 

“You are my home.” 

**Author's Note:**

> drop a line at [tumblr~](https://businessbabybergara.tumblr.com/). hearts forever.


End file.
